


Five Times Martin Was Expecting a Kiss and One Time he Really Wasn't

by Iocane



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, There's one girl in this fic and she's five years old - and so is Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what it says on the tin! The overall pairing is Douglas/Martin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Martin Was Expecting a Kiss and One Time he Really Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shorty for existing, and for helping me with the final polish, any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thanks to auzzies for support while I was writing this, and for also existing.
> 
> Thanks to the ladies of tumblr for helping me decide where to go with this - I hope you like the results!
> 
> (It's laaaaaaaaaaaate and I"m going to bed, I'll get their names listed later, I promise!)

1 – Jennifer Crowley

"Will you be my val'tine?" Martin shyly handed his pretty five year old classmate a gluey, glittery, lopsided heart.

"I'm already you girlfriend, Marty!" Jenny giggled as she took it, talking about their promise of the day before. "It's pretty! I can tell your mummy didn't cut the heart out, but I like it anyway!"

With that, she leaned over and pressed a peck to his cheek – which is what he'd been hoping for when he added the lacy ribbon around the edge of the heart that morning.

The next week, she 'broke up' with him because Peter Jenkens had given her his pudding cup, but Martin didn't mind – he'd gotten a kiss form her!

2 – Edna Louise "Grandma" Crieff

Martin tried not to grimace when his grandmother arrived. His father's mother was not his favorite family member during the holidays. Most of the year she was fine, if a bit old-lady smelling.

At Christmas, however, she got into the brandy and no one had the heart to stop her. Or perhaps, it was simply that no one had managed it.

When he felt that thin, but surprisingly strong hand around his own stick-like arm, he knew just what was coming.

The excessive red lipstick made the kiss even squishier and the scent of brandy made him a little queasy as his grandmother planted a slobbery kiss on his forehead and declared him to be such a pretty boy. Her free hand was petting his detested red curls. They weren't even long enough to cover the garish lip impression on his forehead.

Shortly after, she was shuffled off to bed and Martin was allowed to wash off his cheek. His sister even helped, as she had more experience with removing lipstick.

He managed to escape it every year thereafter, but it was still enough that when a lipstick inscription on his forehead was mentioned, he could swear he smelled brandy.

3 – James Pendrick

Martin had been renting the attic room of the student house for a year when James arrived.

He and James had struck up something of a friendship – the young man's great grandfather had been an RAF man during the war and some of the mementos had been passed on to him. So far he was the only student with any interest in planes or flying, and that was all Martin had time to talk about.

Though Martin was older than some of the students, he wasn't that much older, so when they threw an end-of-midterm party, Martin didn't feel exceptionally out of place.

"Hey, Martin." James found Martin on the front steps as the party raged inside.

"Hey," Martin gave the younger man a genuine smile and took the beer he offered. James had already had a few, given the slight wobble to his steps and the way he bumped against Martin as he sat beside him, bodies closer together than the wide steps would normally require.

"How's the studying going? What's it called again, the PCL?"

"CPL," Martin corrected with a chuckle. "Commercial Pilot's License."

"Second time, right?"

"Mmm."

"It's good, you know … going for it again. I know how much you like flying. It's nice to know someone who can be … true to himself, you know?"

Martin glanced at James in the moonlight, picking up something in his words that had him waiting for more – he suspected James wasn't talking about flying at all. Finally, Martin spoke again. "Yeah. Honesty is best. Going after what you want is really the only way to live. For me, anyway."

"Yeah. Honesty." James took a swallow of his beer. "You're an honest guy, Martin. I feel … I think I can tell you this. Cuz, you know … you'll understand."

Martin turned a bit to face James better. Martin had had a beer or two but he wasn't as far gone as James seemed to be. James quickly finished his half-full beer and took a breath before he continued.

"M'gay. Leas' I think I am. Wanna kiss you. Don't got a boyfriend, do you?"

Martin's stomach clenched from that first mumbled confession, and his mind wasn't so boozed up that he didn't realize James was confessing because he thought Martin himself was gay. He saw James swooping in without an answer and Martin's body was too slow to stop him.

Surprisingly, the kiss wasn't awful. It was a bit … wet, but that was largely owing to two uncoordinated, open mouths. After a moment, things settled down and it became a nice kiss, much to Martin’s surprise. His own mouth had been open to inform James that while he was proud of the man's confession, he himself was actually straight.

The kiss ended when something inside the house banged against the front door, startling both of them. The fear in James' eyes made Martin glad it was probably just a drunk staggering, because no one actually came out.

Before Martin could say anything, James was on his feet and heading back into the house.

Not sure at all what to do, Martin lay back on the steps, legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, his mind drifting hazily over the memory of the kiss, over memories of other kisses, and reluctantly, over the fact that he was a little bit hard after that brief press of male lips.

James and Martin didn't really talk after that, though a month later, James hesitantly introduced the other students to Michael, his date.

And if his stomach gave a tiny flip of something later identified as jealousy, and if his dreams that night were a bit more … muscular than usual, it was something Martin could deal with – later.

4 – Robert Goren

Four months, and one failed CPL after James' drunken kiss, Martin was ready to test a few theories about himself.

He'd looked around town, and found a gay bar that he could actually afford, if he went on Tuesdays, which he did.

He felt uneasy as he stepped in, but mostly because he wasn't one for the club atmosphere. He was dressed alright, he was pleased to see. His newest pair of jeans and a shirt that wasn't too awful. He'd tried to gel his hair back a little but one curl kept stubbornly dropping in front of his forehead. He'd even gone so far as to ask Katie, one of his housemates with curly hair, how to get it to behave, and she'd said it looked adorable like that, kind of gave him a ginger superman look, with his cheekbones and all.

So here he was, nervous, freckly ginger Superman, making his way to the bar.

As he sipped his beer, he looked around. His eyes widened when he glimpsed a couple going into the bathroom together. And the way one was reaching for the others zipper, with their mouths fused as they were, he didn't think they were going to take a leak.

"First time?" A rich voice in Martin's ear startled him and he turned to face a dark haired, fair skinned man with a slight smirk and an amused twinkle in his eye.

"That obvious?" Martin tried to smile, but not too widely – when his smile was too broad his face looked squishy and strange to him.

"A little, I'm Bobby," the stranger replied, offering his hand and Martin took it, looking the man over quickly. Nice slacks, polo shirt and a blazer, a bit dressier than Martin but still on the casual side. The man was a bit older than Martin would have expected to hit on him, but not unattractive. Dark hair was highlighted by a slight graying at the temples, and the smooth baritone held a richness not found in men his own age. The silver belt buckle drew Martin's eye downward into the shadows between them.

"Martin." He realized he'd been staring and dragged his gaze back up to Bobby's face, catching the amused smile, and a bit more in those dark brown eyes.

"I'd offer to get you a drink, Martin, but you've already got a full one, it seems. So I'll have to settle for a dance." Bobby gave a wide smile, tugging Martin off the stool, eyes widening a little when Martin’s head sank a few inches.

Martin had known Bobby was tall but the difference was certainly more pronounced now, and he saw the surprise in his eyes. "Problem?" He gestured vaguely to his body, trying to indicate his height.

"Good things come in small packages, Martin," Bobby assured him and dragged him through the crowd.

Martin never considered himself much of a dancer, and he wasn't sure what was happening on the dance floor could be termed dancing anyway. Still, he had fun, and Bobby seemed to like it.

When a slow dance came on, Martin tried to make his way back to the bar, but strong arms stopped him, drawing their bodies flush together from thigh to chest. "I've been waiting for one like this," Bobby purred as he held Martin.

Martin felt his face go bright red as he let his hands rest nervously on Bobby's arms. At this point, he'd already confirmed his theory – he was gay. He was enjoying this far more than he enjoyed any of his dates with any woman, ever. At least physically. His mind was still in a mild state of panic, but Bobby's strong hands, one on his hip, one on the small of his back, were calming his mind as much as they excited his body.

They swayed together among a sea of couples, Martin gazing up at his partner. When Bobby leaned down, Martin opened his mouth slightly, his heart hammering at what was to come.

The kiss went all the way to Martin's groin and he tightened his arms, letting them slide up around Bobby's neck as he returned it.

What he and Bobby did could hardly be called dating, and only lasted for a month. But it ended amiably, and with Martin far, far more experienced. That was apparently Bobby's thing, Martin found out – he liked introducing 'newbies' to the delights of gay sex and Martin couldn't bring himself to resent the lessons.

He'd also left Martin with a decided preference for tall, smooth-voiced older men with somewhat expensive tastes.

5 – Arthur Shappey

After Bobby, Martin remained largely single, owing to the pressures of various jobs on top of studying and paying for retaking his CPL's. Also due to the fact that he didn't often encounter men he found appealing.

Six goes after James' kiss, he finally got it right. For the first time, when he searched for a job, it was the job he wanted – professional pilot. And, after a few failed interviews, he'd gotten a job at an airline. Well, airdot. But the fact that it was an airdot rather than an airline, was made up for by the fact that he was the Captain of said airdot. The fact that he didn't actually get paid sort of stuck in his craw, but it was worth it, and he managed to make ends meet with his van.

His job at MJN Air became a family quite quickly. They were, in fact, more of a family than any of the students who lived under him for years at a time. More of a family, also, than his own flesh and blood.

Carolyn was a stern aunt – there was an almost maternal air sometimes but in a distant, slightly cold sort of way. She could be shockingly warm at times, and not just to her son. Martin also suspected she'd pulled her verbal punches more than once when he was close to the edge.

And Arthur was rather like a cousin – that excitable cousin that was always fun at holidays but you never wanted to actually live with. Still, Arthur's cheeryness and belief in Martin's brilliant-ness were often a balm on his nerves. Nerves often frayed by Douglas.

Douglas was … Martin tried not to think too much about where Douglas fit into the family dynamic at MJN. Much as he sounded like Stephen Fry's favorite uncle, Martin's reactions to him didn't resemble that of any nephew.

Martin also liked Douglas a bit to well to dub him with the title of brother. Given how Martin felt about his own actual brother, it would be an insult to Douglas to call him such.

In general, Martin found it best if he didn't think too much about Douglas and his feelings for the older pilot at all.

It was that family dynamic that had Martin – and Douglas – over at Carolyn and Arthur's for Christmas Day that year. Her excuse had been that since they were flying the following afternoon, she wanted proof positive that neither of her pilots had been drinking.

That excuse lost water when gifts had been produced. They were clearly wrapped with Carolyn’s neat and tidy hands, and not Arthur's haphazard tape and paper creations. Neither martin nor Douglas were quite stupid enough to point it out.

Martin was pleasantly buzzed, not by alcohol, but by good company, the prospect of a rare full belly and the warmth of a holiday spent around people he actually liked.

Arthur was decked out in a bright holiday sweater, a tinsel garland scarf, and a Santa hat that actually lit up, as well as antlers. How how balanced those two, Martin would never figure out. Martin laughed at Arthur's puppy like excitement beaming grin on the steward's face.

Arthur, who only had a loose grasp of the concept of mistletoe, clearly had certain intentions as he descended on Martin. So the giant smack planted on him by by the steward wasn't really a surprise. It resembled a version of his grandmother's kiss, slightly less brandyish, but it was planted on his lips and accompanied by an earnest hug and a bright Merry Christmas.

Any discomfort Martin might have felt was abated when he watched Douglas try to squirm away from a similar kiss just moments later. It was indicative of the Christmas spirit that Douglas did actually allow Arthur to kiss his cheek and didn't snap at him or physically push him away.

Carolyn eventually called Arthur away to help with the cooking. Martin and Douglas had both been banned from the kitchen. Warmed by the company and cheered a bit by the kiss, Martin made his way over to Douglas' side. "Looks like you got an Arthur special as well," Martin observed with a cheeky smile.

"Indeed, though _Sir_ seems to have gotten the brunt of it," Douglas' smooth tones curled around Martin's ears, and though he was called Sir, it was with none of Douglas' usual sarcasm. "Did Sir also get accosted by the Christmas tree?"

"Ngh, have I got pinecones or something?" Martin asked, reaching up to brush a hand over his hair. Since he wasn't at work, it wasn't as mercilessly gelled down, though he'd tried to make it manageable. He'd even gotten that damned curl to cooperate.

"No, just a few- here, let me," Douglas stepped forward, reaching for Martin's hair and skimming his fingers over the tops, picking at a few spots.

When he was done, Martin remembered to breathe again, swallowing tightly at the nearness.

"Thanks." Martin ran his hand over his hair, then grimaced when he realized the curl had escaped and there was nothing he could do about it.

Realizing Douglas was looking at it, Martin drew himself up, waiting for the latest barrage. "You don't seem _terribly_ put out," Douglas observed as he took a sip of apple juice. "About Arthur."

"Why would I be? Not like he meant anything by it." Martin let himself relax, the warmth of the season making it easy.

"Considering you seem to go to pieces at the idea of kissing _a woman_ , you handled a man's kiss quite well. Not that Arthur is a _man_ , strictly speaking."

"Oi, be nice, it's Christmas," Martin said with a slight chuckle, nudging Douglas' ribs with his elbow at the dig. Silence lapsed, the same sort of comfortable silence that would fill the cockpit on their longer flights. "Besides, I'm better at kissing men." He spoke quietly, realizing for the first time that he hadn't actually ever come out at work. It had never come up. And, truth be told, he'd always somewhat feared Douglas' teasing. But he was starting to realize Douglas only teased people he felt worthy of his wit. It made it easier to bear, even if it did still sometimes wear on him.

Realizing he was lost in his own thoughts, Martin had no idea how long Douglas had been fixing him with that searching stare. "Well, well. It seems that Sir _can_ still surprise me. Well done, _Martin_." The glass of apple juice was raised in silent toast before Douglas finished it.

When Carolyn called them to dinner, Martin tried not to make too much of the fact that Douglas' hand, warm and heavy, rested just above the small of his back as they made their way to the table.

\+ 1 – Douglas Richardson

Everything happened so quickly, there wasn't time to switch control. Martin had it, so Martin kept it. The crosswinds, extreme low visibility and icy runway were bad enough. On their descent, however, they lost an engine as well. Not goosed, it simply stopped responding, most likely iced over. The blizzard had come up suddenly and they were landing at the nearest airstrip, Stockholm. Douglas was in spotty contact with the tower, and Martin heard his voice, rich and calm as he relayed necessary information to Martin.

It took every ounce of willpower in the younger pilot not to close his eyes in terror as he began to touch down. They slid, landing gear frozen on the icy runway, but eventually sliding became skidding as they reached salted asphalt. There was a sharp snap, a harsh bounce, and skidding became scraping which became screaming metal.

Martin didn't even realize they'd stopped until a pair of very strong hands yanked him from his seat. He had just enough time to register Douglas' face before his First Officer's mouth was on his.

Eyes wide with shock, Martin didn't respond until he felt Douglas pull away. Something … whether the adrenaline of survival after near death, or his latent, confusing, and barely acknowledged feelings for the other man, had Martin gripping tight. His arms came up, wrapped around Douglas' neck and pulled him back for a proper kiss.

Their hearts were racing as they clung to each other, kissing with bruising force and a need so fierce and desperate each man's lungs were screaming before they pulled back, gasping. Martin was painfully aware of his own body's response, and a brief glance confirmed Douglas was in a similar state.

Before anything could be said, however, Arthur burst in just ahead of Carolyn, and they were both too excited to be alive to worry about the landing gear that had snapped off, or the damage to the underside of the plane. Thankfully it was a cargo flight so there were no passenger nerves to soothe.

Martin caught Douglas' eye but it was clear no discussion would be had just yet.

An hour later found them installed in the nearest hotel, which was not too much of a dive. It did mean that they'd be sharing rooms, himself and Douglas as well as Carolyn and Arthur.

The two pilots were silent, barely making eye contact as they carried their flight bags up to their joined room. Douglas unlocked the door and let them both in, Martin closing it behind them and he found himself standing at the door, watching the older pilot move deeper into the room.

Martin recognized the fact that adrenaline and excitement were still coursing through his veins. His hands shook as he watched Douglas deposit his bag on the bed nearest the window.

"Douglas." He wasn't sure what to say after that … he wanted to ask why, that was the main thing, but he was afraid of the answer. The obvious being that it was sheer adrenaline, a reaction of just having survived.

"This would have been easier on the plane." Douglas moved to settle heavily on the bed he'd claimed, looking at the cream colored curtains.

Martin was tempted to take one of the chairs by the window, which would force Douglas to face him. Instead, he left his own bag by the door and moved to join Douglas on the bed, leaving some space, trying not to be confrontational, and drawing up the nerve to tell the other man how he felt. As usual, Douglas was quicker.

"I thought we were going to die, Martin. I honestly didn't think the plane could be landed in those conditions. I-" Douglas faltered, looking down at his hands. "I don't even know if I could have done it."

That confession alone was enough to bring Martin's thoughts up short. There was an honesty in Douglas' voice that Martin seldom heard. The man was leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees. "Douglas."

"I _need_ to say this, Martin. Please." Douglas still didn't look at him, head bowed. Martin stayed silent and waited. "I promised myself that if we survived, I would … I'd stop being a coward. I shouldn't have kissed you, I know, I should have just told you what I felt, and left it at that. I have no reason to ... Just because you're gay, doesn't mean … I don't know if you feel …"

Martin finally spoke up. "Douglas, I kissed back. I wanted to for a long time," The words came out faster than he intended, but they were no less honest.

Douglas finally lifted his head, turning to face Martin. Some of his hair had fallen forward and Martin let himself reach for it, gliding his hands through the slightly graying strands and guiding them back off of Douglas' face even as he leaned forward.

This time, the kiss was far less frantic, and the desperation was just a footnote, rather than a main theme.

Martin finally drew back, licking his lips and still tasting Douglas' mouth. His hand rested on the back of Douglas' neck, and Douglas' hand was wonderfully warm on Martin's back.

"I want-"

"I don't think-"

The tension broke as they both tried to speak, dual chuckles filling the air. Douglas was watching Martin thoughtfully, and allowed the young man to speak again. "I want you. But I think we should wait."

Douglas' shoulders sagged and at first Martin feared it was disappointment, then he nodded. "I was going to say I don't think we should rush into things. After earlier …" Douglas looked down at hands that were still trembling a bit. "Best if we wait till we're back home, before doing much of anything else."

"I agree," Martin said, forcing himself to stand, shrugging out of his captain's jacket and going to hang it up. In spite of his words, and perhaps due to lingering nerves over his landing, Martin found he didn't want to put too much space between himself and Douglas. Douglas seemed of like mind, tense when Martin had stepped away, and relaxing a bit when he returned.

By silent agreement, they got settled into the room, both of them finding something to do that was closer to the other, bodies brushing occasionally as they unpacked. They were booked for three days, and would likely be there even longer, MJN had been doing rather well the last few months, Carolyn had indicated they might just be able to squeeze out of this one alive. Especially since the delivery they had to make could now be trucked to its final destination once the roads cleared, and the client understood the delay.

Room service was ordered and a few calls were made. Douglas to his daughter whom he'd meant to spend that weekend with. Martin to cancel a job for the next day and two for the day after. Rather than vanishing into the bathrom for privacy as usual, they settled on Douglas' bed, making their calls in turn. When the food arrived, they laid it out on the table, sitting opposite each other.

"I notice you claimed the better bed," Martin observed halfway through the meal. He was still a trifle shaky after the landing, and were he alone, he'd be sipping from a shot of cheap whiskey. With Douglas, however, he refrained – it felt rather like eating candy in front of someone you knew to be on a diet – plain rude.

"I _did_." That patented Richardson smirk was in place, and his voice was a trifle smug, but Martin noticed there was a warmth to his eyes. Had it been there before, and Martin just never noticed?

"Well, I think, a-as Captain, and given the landing earlier …" He drew himself up and looked Douglas square in the eye. "I should have the better bed."

Douglas's face didn't change, but something in his eyes did as he responded. "Sir _does_ make a very good point," he said smoothly, taking a sip of his apple juice. "However, I don't plan on giving up the better bed," There was a challenging note in Douglas' eyes.

Searching his first officer's face, Martin found himself pineking at the implication. In fact his whole body felt flush and he recalled that heated first kiss. "As C-captain," Martin ignored the way his trousers were getting uncomfortably tight. "I'll be sleeping in the better bed."

"I have no objection to Sir's choice of sleeping arrangements, so long as Sir understands _I'm_ not giving up my bed." The air was fairly crackling between them, now. Their nervous post-near-death energy was settling into something a bit sharper and newer.

"Fine." Martin took a few more bites of his food, wanting to finish the meal before it went cold. "Besides, bit chilly in here," he said, clearing his throat.

"Sir's keen powers of observation never cease to amaze me." Douglas all but purred the words, and neither of them mentioned the fact that the room had climate control.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, any comments are welcome, flames will be used to make s'mores! I have to say it was neat writing a Martin who wasn't yet a failure in his own mind.


End file.
